Latest From Eleanor Ringel Cater
“The Trial of the Chicago 7,” Aaron Sorkin’s cracklingly good Netflix movie about what happened in Judge Julius Hoffman’s (Frank Langella) courtroom.
About Eleanor Ringel Cater
Eleanor was the film critic for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution for almost 30 years. She was nominated multiple times for a Pulitzer Prize. She won the Best of Cox Critic, IMAGE Film & Video and Women In Film awards. An Atlanta native, she graduated from Westminster and Brown University. She was the critic on WXIA’s Noonday, a member of Entertainment Weekly’s Critics Grid and wrote TV Guide’s movie/DVD. She is member of the National Society of Film Critics and currently talks about movies on WMLB and writes the Time Out column for the Atlanta Business Chronicle.
More from Eleanor Ringel Cater
“The Trial of the Chicago 7,” Aaron Sorkin’s cracklingly good Netflix movie about what happened in Judge Julius Hoffman’s (Frank Langella) courtroom.
The year is 1968. Records are still records and landlines are still called telephones. Stonewall is a year away and the specter of AIDS lurks in a distant decade.
“The Glorias,” Julie Taymor’s take on the life and times of Gloria Steinem, is so muddled and off-putting that I'm going to cancel my subscription to Ms.magazine.
“Made in Italy” looks like a real movie. But like a cheap knock-off of a trendy gadget, it might as well be tagged “Made in Japan.”
Score one more for the wretchedness that is 2020. This past weekend, the seemingly indomitable Ruth Bader Ginsburg finally lost her long battle with cancer.
In some ways, “Feels Good Man” is much ado about not much.
Never mind being John Malkovich. Try being Charlie Kaufman. It would probably take Kaufman himself to pull that off, though there are those who’d say he’s already done it. That his movies, from “Adaptation” to “The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” to, well, “Being John Malkovich” are about being Charlie Kaufman.
Not since I heard about Philip Seymour Hoffman and Robin Williams, have I been as stunned by an actor’s death as I was about Chadwick Boseman's.
Everything interesting about “Tesla” is on the edges. Like the macabre modern touches (Industrialist J.P. Morgan’s daughter, the movie’s narrator/potential love interest, coolly googles Tesla and his rival inventor, Edison, noting the latter has more than twice as many entries).
The glowing green vial Madame Marie Sklodowska Curie keeps next to her bed isn’t the most radiant thing in “Radioactive.” That honor must go to Rosamund Pike whose spikey performance as Curie lights up what could’ve lapsed into another feminist-laced by-the-book biography.
